Page 37 of Sea La Vie (The Outer Banks #1)

Lainey

I ’m a sobbing heap on the floor as the boat tosses and turns, the ocean taking out its anger and wrath on my family’s tiny fishing vessel. Midge is curled up in my arms, fast asleep despite the choppy conditions. The wind howls, blocking out the noise of her quiet snores and my hiccuping sobs.

It’s hard to tell how far I’ve drifted since last being able to check my location.

I’m probably miles and miles from shore, lost at sea.

The thought makes me cry even harder. I manage to stand and hobble over to the cabinet, surveying its contents.

There’s a can of SpaghettiOs, a jug of water, and a stale loaf of bread with a half eaten jar of peanut butter beside it.

At least I had options.

I hobble back over to the GPS and radio, trying again for any sort of signal. Nothing.

I have no idea what time it is. The sky is still dark from the storms, and I wonder if it’s getting late. The thought of being lost at sea is unsettling, but the thought of being lost at sea at night makes my stomach churn even worse.

The boat begins to settle longer between each toss and turn, and a glance up at the sky shows that the dark gray clouds are beginning to lighten slightly.

When the rain lets up enough to see, I stumble to the back of the boat and survey the engine.

I manage to pop the cover off, and smoke envelops me.

Coughs and gags sputter from my mouth, and I quickly pull my shirt over my nose.

When the smoke clears, I notice my problem.

Whether or not I can fix it though, I’m unsure.

I hobble back into the cabin, grab a tool kit, and get to work.

What feels like hours have passed, and I’ve had no luck with the motor turning over.

I’ve been hard at work, only stopping to take a short break to dump some of the SpaghettiOs out for Midge, who happily licked them up.

Blood crusts around my busted knuckles, and my ankle is throbbing enough for me to have dark spots floating in my line of vision.

The rain has lessened to a steady drizzle, and the wrath of the ocean has settled into small rocks, causing a powerful yawn to overtake me. The sky is getting darker every second, and I’m afraid my fear of getting lost at sea at night is going to come true.

I sink back against the side of the boat, my head hanging in my hands. My hair is plastered to my face, my clothes are soaked, my skin is chafed, and every part of my body hurts.

I wanted to make this business last so badly, to carry my mom’s legacy and make my dad proud, and I’ve done the one thing that could possibly hurt him most. I can only imagine what he’s feeling right now, going through every same emotion he did when I was a kid and we lost our mom.

I’ve failed him. I’ve failed my entire family and Tate.

Tate tried to make me promise I wouldn’t do this anymore, and while I didn’t exactly agree to it, I didn’t not agree, either.

He wasn’t trying to control me, he only wanted to keep me safe.

He was acting so strangely when I left his house the other morning that I figured if he could keep secrets, so could I.

Or, not necessarily secrets, but it’s not like we had made anything official between us.

We didn’t need to know every detail of each other’s day.

We weren’t even dating for heaven’s sakes.

Although, I realize now that this was a pretty big detail to withhold considering he did just tell me he loved me.

Thunder booms in the distance and I grimace. Not another storm. Its boom is steady, growing louder and louder, and I wonder if it’s ever going to end.

“Laaaiiinnneeeyyyyy! Lainey, are you there? Can you hear me?”

I scramble to my feet and Midge joins me, the voice waking her up. Her barks echo across the water, and finally I see the outline of a boat through the fog settling on the surface of the water. As it nears, I realize I recognize the bright red paint. A-Fish-Ionado.

“Paul?” I yell back. “Is that you?” My arms wave wildly over my head, my heartbeat beating erratically and threatening to jump out of my chest. “Over here!”

Paul draws closer to my boat and hops off his captain’s chair on the second deck. He tosses a rope over to me, and I scramble to catch it while his deckhands move around quickly, securing our boats together. When we’re finally attached, I let out the tiniest sigh of relief.

“Paul…I never thought I’d say this, but boy am I glad to see you.” Paul cracks a smile, and I take in his appearance. He’s still in the same Columbia PFG but he’s added a rain jacket and hat to the ensemble, keeping him mostly dry. “How did you find me?”

“I kept an eye on you as long as I could when you began drifting farther and farther away. Eventually I had a bite of my own I had to reel in, and when I looked around for you, you were gone. I had a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach, considering you were out here alone in this piece of junk, so I tried to ping your GPS and couldn’t pick you up. ”

I decide to let the comment about the junky boat go, considering he did just save my life, and the motor did fail at the worst possible time.

“The Coast Guard has been searching everywhere for you, but they eventually had to call it off because the swells were so big.” He pauses and crosses his arms, then looks out to the water. “I couldn’t go back knowing you were out here alone.”

Tears sting the backs of my eyes, and I blink them away.

“I knew we’d be fine, considering this gem is designed for the roughest of seas, so I decided to come find you. We’ve been looking for hours.” He gestures to his boat like it’s the love of his life, and I realize it probably is.

“Thank you, Paul,” I manage as I wipe my eyes.

“Do you know what’s wrong with your motor?” he asks, eyeing the dinosaur.

“I thought I did,” I say. “But I’ve been working on it for hours and haven’t had any luck.

He glances toward my broken antenna and frowns. “That explains why I couldn’t ping you, I guess.”

I groan. “How in the world am I going to pay for all these repairs,” I mumble.

Paul glances at the nearly dark sky. “I don’t think we have enough time to stick around and try to fix that. And I don’t think hauling it is a possibility either, considering we’re running low on fuel.”

I glance around the old boat and gulp. When Paul’s eyes meet mine, he nods his head ever so slightly, and I know what I have to do.

“You ready, girl?” I ask Midge. She yips, and I pick her up and hand her over to Paul.

She surprisingly gives him a big lick across the face, causing him to grimace and set her down.

She immediately gets to work introducing herself to all the deckhands.

“Can you give me one minute?” I ask.

Paul checks his watch, then sighs. “One minute. We really need to get out of here.” I hobble to the cabin of the boat and gather the few things I came with and survey Sea La Vie .

From this angle, I can see every part of the boat.

The bow, the stern. Every part of this boat has been such a key part of my family’s success in the past years.

It was the place my mother loved to spend the most time, minus the time spent in her garden.

A tear slides down my cheek as I realize this is the last time I’ll ever be on this boat, too.

“You’ve done good,” I whisper, then wrap my knuckles along the steering wheel. “Thank you...for everything.”

When I limp to the back of the boat again, Paul is still waiting, his hands on his hips. His crew has loaded up my catch that I’ve already forgotten about but must’ve stayed cold enough on the ice to keep. “Thank you,” I mumble, winning the competition the furthest thing from my mind now.

Paul’s boat is gleaming, so shiny and clean you can almost see your reflection in it.

Everything is top of the line, brand new, not a speck of rust or dirt anywhere.

“You ready?” he asks and extends a hand.

I grit my teeth as I bear weight on my busted ankle and throw myself over to his deck.

He catches me then grimaces as he notices how much pain I’m in.

“Have you surveyed the damage of that yet?” he asks, nodding toward my foot.

“I haven’t even taken my boot off,” I say. “I knew if I did, I wouldn’t be able to get it back on.”

Paul points to the door leading into the cabin. “There are some dry clothes in there and a little bed next to the stove. Feel free to heat yourself up some coffee and change.”

“Thank you,” I say, the thought of a warm cup of coffee enough to make me smile for the first time since the tournament began.

“Better make yourself comfy,” he says. “You managed to drift about two hundred miles down the coast. We should make it back in about ten hours.”

I blink, surprised. “Wow,” I mutter. Then I turn and shuffle into the cabin.

I eye the coffee pot and sit on the edge of the bed, needing a small break to gather my thoughts.

“I’m okay,” I whisper, and feel the tension begin to leave my shoulders.

I lay my head down on the pillow, just for a second to gain my bearings. “I’m okay.”

Midge noses her way into the cabin and jumps up onto the bed to join me. When she nuzzles into my arms my eyes grow heavy, and I can’t help but close them. “Just for a second,” I tell her. Then, the world grows dark.

I wake up as the sun is beginning to rise and scrub at my eyes. Midge whines and covers her nose with her paws. The smell of coffee wafts over me, and I breathe in deeply, groaning as I stretch. I stand then fumble around the kitchen until I find a mug and pour myself a cup.

My ankle feels slightly better, but I still wince as I bear weight on it, and again when I notice I’m still in the same damp, disgusting clothes.

“Morning,” Paul says, as he climbs down the ladder from the top deck.

I lift my mug to him. “Morning.”

“You snore,” Paul says. “And you didn’t even budge when I started the coffee. You must sleep like the dead.”

“I feel like I could be dead,” I mumble. “Where are we?”

“Not too far away. About an hour out.”

I nod, then take a sip from my mug. It warms my hands, and a satisfied shiver runs through my body.

“Best cup of coffee you’ve ever had, huh?” Paul asks, smirking.

“It’ll do,” I say, grinning back.

I glance around the boat and find everything in pristine condition. It really is an impressive boat. Paul sees me assessing everything and bumps my shoulder with his. “See what a little money will get you?” he asks.

I roll my eyes. “Our boat was fine for years,” I say.

“Until it wasn’t,” he points out.

I sigh. “Until it wasn’t,” I echo.

“Your dad’s always been cheap. Ever since highschool,” he chuffs.

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” I retort. “We’ve done just fine.” Paul smirks at me, his eyes saying everything. “We’ll need a new boat now though, I guess.” I think of Sea La Vie , out there floating around the ocean, and my heart plummets.

Surprising me, Paul lays an arm across my shoulders. “Your parents must be so proud of you, kid.”

I blink up at him, noticing the similarities between him and my dad.

Same deeply tanned skin, same coon-eye tan line from the constant sunglasses, same wrinkles forming around the eyes, and the salt peppering their hair.

All the traits of a weathered fisherman, and my heart squeezes, just for a moment.

The fact he’s speaking of my mom as if she’s still able to see me, to protect me, and to be proud means everything to me.

“You think?” I ask.

“I know,” he answers. “Especially your momma. Gosh, that momma of yours. She was something.”

“She was, wasn’t she,” I say. The sunrise is breathtaking this morning, mother nature showing off as an apology for last night’s wrath. The orange and pinks paint Paul and his boat in a soft hue.

“You know she picked your daddy over me, don’t you?” he asks. I raise an eyebrow. “We both asked her to the homecoming dance on the same day. Your daddy won, and she kicked me to the curb.” He chuckles.

“So that’s why you hate each other,” I say.

Paul shrugs. “I don’t hate him. I don’t think he hates me either. We just enjoy a little friendly competition is all.” Paul squints then points to the left. “Almost there,” he says.

I squint too, mirroring him, and can just make out the docks up ahead. “You’re dropping me off in Widow’s Wharf?” I ask.

“Well yeah,” he answers. “You don’t have a boat to get back home from Haven’s Harbor.” He coughs a nasty, sputtering cough, and I feel bad that he’s been out in the weather all night for me.

As we get closer, I can make out a line of people along the dock, all waving their arms and calling our name.

“Welcome home, kid,” Paul says.